Soup’s on the stove. Cat is in his basket. Sade’s on the player. And outside the window of my home office: snow, snow.
Amazing that, three days ago I was admiring the subtle tones of autumn in the mountains of Maine.
Water was flowing, but I bet now it’s ice.
A friend said: Is that snow on the mountain over there? And I denied it, claiming sky.
But it’s true the plants were packing up, headed towards the season of sleep that drives us wakeful ones indoors.